Do You Remember Your First Job? (The "Shoulder Pads & Shorthand" Edition)

Do you remember your very first job? I’m talking about that first "grown-up" role where 

you felt like you were playing dress-up in your own life. 

I started mine at 15 ½ through a high school work program. I’m convinced my mother 

had a "secret summit" with my school counselor to decide my fate. The consensus? 

"She’s not the college type; let's just give her some survival skills so she can pay her own 

rent and utility bills." 

Before I knew it, my transcript resembled a 1960s secretarial handbook: it included 

typing, shorthand, business machines, and Spanish. 

Let’s look at the ROI on that education, shall we? 

●​Shorthand: Two years of my life I’ll never get back. I haven’t used a single 

"squiggle" since. 

●​Business Machines: They are currently sitting in a landfill next to floppy disks. 

●​Spanish: Three years of study, and I still order "tacos" with an embarrassing 

accent. 

●​The Win: I can type like the wind on my laptop, and my bank account actually 

balances. I’ll take it! 

My first gig was at the local Chamber of Commerce. It was a total blast. I got to wear 

my best "office attire" (imagine the hair and the polyester!) and pretend I knew exactly 

what was going on. I spent my days greeting visitors, attending social mixers, and 

getting my first real taste of the "Office Games." It was a crash course in people 

skills—learning how to smile through the chaos and look productive even when I was 

just figuring out how the stapler worked. 

Looking back, I have to laugh, but I also have to thank God. Even when I was just a 

teenager in a cheap blazer trying to navigate office politics, the Lord’s hand was on my 

life. He was opening doors, directing my shaky steps, and equipping me for a future I 

couldn’t even imagine yet.